


happy golden days of yore

by knoxoursavior



Category: DCU
Genre: Bat Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s that time of the year again. Or, Clark has a Christmas shopping list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy golden days of yore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ichikonohakko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichikonohakko/gifts).



> written for the [superbat secret santa](http://superbatsecrersanta.tumblr.com/)! originally posted [here](http://superbatsecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/135905760904/to-ichikonohakko-from-poedameronfleek-message).

**☐ at least 3 boxes of tea (green, chai, chamomile, earl grey?) for Alfred**

“Kara’s been having some trouble,” Clark says. “She doesn’t really like talking with me about it, but she lets me hug her after she talks with her sister or with her friends.”

“It’s good that you’re not pushing her,” Alfred says, nodding approvingly.

“I try. I may or may not bribe Jimmy with Ma’s pies so he’ll tell me if she runs into a little too much trouble.” Clark shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. “He always just tells me to talk to Kara myself though.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. “You know he doesn’t like to be called Jimmy anymore.”

Clark sighs. “I know. They’re all just growing up so quickly. Kara’s making a name for herself and Jimmy’s doing well in National City. Kon’s starting to learn not to turn to me or to Ma to approve every decision he makes.”

“I’ve heard a lot about him from Tim,” Alfred says. He pauses, takes a sip of his tea, then says, “He seems to be doing well with the Titans.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about Tim from Kon as well,” Clark says, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “I think he’s got a crush.”

“I wonder what Master Tim would have to say about that,” Alfred says, ducking his head to take another sip, probably trying to hide his satisfied smile.

“Oh, come on, Alfred,” Clark says, rolling his eyes. “Kon’s obvious even to me, and Tim’s the world’s second greatest detective.”

“Even so. Didn’t you have trouble with Master Bruce?”

“Ah.” Clark shrugs. “Well, maybe they need a little push.”

Alfred stares at Clark, not blinking once.

“I promise I won’t be obvious?” Clark tries. Then he relents. “Okay, I promise I’ll run my plans by you.”

Alfred finally nods, satisfied. “Would you like more tea?”

“Yes, please,” Clark says. “And I’d love to hear more about the kids, but I know they’ll be here later to tell me themselves anyway.”

“Do make sure to get as much out of Master Jason as you can,” Alfred says. He doesn’t look at Clark, and Clark finds himself agreeing without asking why.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Right,” Alfred says, sounding entirely confident that Clark will try and succeed as well. He already has a tray of cookies and tea ready, timely as always. “Do make sure Master Bruce and Master Damian don’t starve themselves to death?”

Clark chuckles.

“Well, there wouldn’t be a family dinner without those two, would there?”

 

 

**☐ extra warm clothes for Dick (ask Ma for help?)**

Life for a spy is hard, apparently.

“They keep sending me to cold places,” Dick says, sighing. He’s lying on his bed and enjoying his soft, heavenly mattress as Clark places cold compresses all over Dick’s bruised torso. “I think they’ve had enough of me being shirtless back at HQ, so they make sure I have to cover up during missions.”

“Right.” Clark’s eyebrows furrow. “Why are you always shirtless?”

Dick shrugs. “Why not?”

Clark tilts his head, nods. “You’re enjoying it, though?”

“As much as I can while trying to keep my nose from falling off my face,” Dick says, grinning. “It’s nice, though. It’s different from being Nightwing or Robin, that’s for sure, but I like it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Clark says. He’s finished fussing and making sure Dick’s comfortable, so he sits down beside Dick, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Hey,” Dick says, looking up at Clark. “You taking care of my family while I’m gone?”

“I try,” Clark says, sighing. “I mean, they don’t listen really listen to me as much as they listen to Alfred. Not that they _always_ listen to Alfred, but you know.”

“I know,” Dick murmurs. “But you’re trying, and that’s what’s important.”

“Trying saying that to Damian,” Clark mutters.

Dick barks out a laugh. “Try saying that to Jason.”

“Hey. Jason hasn’t bailed on me yet,” Clark says, and it’s true. Jason sticks around when Clark asks him to. He eyes every exit and looks like he wants to be running every minute he listens to Clark talk, but he stays.

Dick hums. “You’re lucky. He doesn’t even let me get a word out.”

“I—well, I think it’s because he can’t really say no to you or Bruce,” Clark says, shrugging, “and that’s why he never lets himself listen to you.”

“Right,” Dick says, his tone disbelieving. “Even if that were true, it would still be worse than the position you’re in. Or even Tim—Jason listens to Tim.”

“Because Tim understands him, in a way,” Clark says. There’s an old bruise on Dick’s cheek that should be unnoticeable for most people, but Clark isn’t exactly most people. He takes one of the cold compresses on Dick’s chest and places it on the bruise instead. “I don’t exactly know why he listens to me, but I’m glad he does.”

Dick sighs.

“Listen, I think Damian’s up to something,” Clark says, changing the subject. “You’re up for damage control this year.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always up for damage control,” Dick says, sitting up and groaning as the cold compresses separate from his skin. “And you know he’s going to be mad you’re listening to him plot.”

Clark rolls his eyes, and when he replies, his tone is exasperated. “It’s not like I can help it.”

“He’ll give you shit anyway,” Dick says, chuckling, but Clark doesn’t take any offense. Everyone’s been on the receiving end of Damian’s shit. Dick had endless headaches back when he took on the cowl with Damian by his side. Clark has gotten used to Damian’s eyes rolling at almost everything he says. Bruce has things a little easier, but only just a tiny bit.

“He’s a good kid,” Clark defends, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That really does make you feel better, doesn’t it?” Dick asks, looking more pained than amused.

“It does,” Clark says, and he leaves no room for disagreement or doubt.

Dick wraps an arm around Clark’s shoulders, his smile tired.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

**☐ ??????? for Barbara (get ready for super speed gift buying)**

It takes almost three minutes for Babs to finally elbow her way out of Clark’s arms.

“Clark, honestly,” Barbara says, rolling her eyes, “I’d say you missed me more than you missed Bruce.”

“I haven’t seen you for longer,” Clark says. He’s tempted to mess her hair up just for that, but he doesn’t. For one, he knows Babs will want to punch him if he does. Secondly and more importantly, Babs is _really_ scary when she’s angry. “And I also cuddled with Bruce all night when I first got here, but is that really important?”

“Did you really just cuddle all night, Clark? Did you really?” Babs’ expression shifts from teasing to mildly disgusted in no time, her nose scrunched in that charming way of hers. “Okay, I may have short-circuited my brain, and I blame you.”

“You’ll forgive me sooner or later,” Clark says, grinning.

Babs raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure of yourself.”

Clark doesn’t answer and only smiles secretively as he turns away and leads Babs up the stairs.

“Clark, what did you do?” Babs groans. “Come on, you know I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one,” Clark says over his shoulder.

“I’m going to find out sooner or later,” Babs says, jogging to catch up with him.

“You’re going to find out when we open our presents after dinner,” Clark says. “Just like everyone else, Babs.”

Babs narrows her eyes. “I’m going to find out before that.”

“No, you’re not,” Clark says, his sigh long-suffering, “and I’m not going to tell you who knows what I got you—if anyone else even knows.”

Babs doesn’t get a chance to intimidate Clark into telling her, because Dick comes and tackles her to the floor.

“Babs, you have to hear about—”

Clark sighs. He’s probably not going to get a word in for the next half hour or so, which is actually good, he realizes, because Babs won’t be able to hound him about his gift anymore. Especially considering he doesn’t have a gift just yet—well.

He has time in between now and dinner to run wherever he needs to and get her a present to put under the tree. They just need to catch up first.

 

**☐ kitchen stuff for Jason (also ask Ma for help)**

“Need some help?”

It’s Jason, hours earlier than usual.

Clark pauses, turning around from where he’s been inspecting the tree for booby traps. Damian planted one last year, which ended up being a disaster when it blew up in Steph’s face. Of course, Tim ended up getting angry at Damian, Dick ended up getting angry at himself for not knowing about it, and Jason ended up finding it hilarious and making everyone else a little bit angry.

So, yes. Help might be good.

“Sure,” Clark says. He waits for Jason to take a seat beside him before he continues checking the presents already under the tree.

“So,” Jason says, and nothing more.

“So?” Clark prompts him.

“So,” Jason tries again, then stops, sighing. “I should have just come late like I always do. It’s not like I want to fucking catch up with everyone.”

“You’ll be fine,” Clark says. “And Alfred’s making custard pie this year. I’m sure he won’t say no to you if you asked for a slice before dinner.”

Jason snorts. “Alfred doesn’t let anybody near the food.”

Clark raises his eyebrows. “He lets me help all the time.”

“Because you’re Superman.” Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re probably not a disaster in the kitchen like all the bats are. It’s like things just start to burn the moment we walk in there.”

“Not all bats,” Clark says, his smile knowing. “I also know Roy, Jason, and I can be persuasive sometimes. I know you can cook.”

“Yeah, like eggs and bacon and shit,” Jason says, shrugging. “It’s not exactly quality dining.”

“But you’re not completely hopeless, and that’s what’s important,” Clark says. “Come on. We’ll go help Alfred after we finish here.”

Jason sighs, and Clark lets him think, lets him decide on his own.

“Fine,” Jason finally says. “We’ll go help Alfred.”

Clark laughs. “You won’t regret it.”

And Jason doesn’t.

 

**☐ a dress for Cass (ask Cat for help??)**

 

“Hey, Cass. Want to help out?” Clark says when he sees Cass peeking in through the kitchen door. She’s wearing a sleeveless blue dress with clean, white flats. She looks exactly her age—younger, even. It makes Clark wish he could take a picture, but Cass has never liked being in front of a camera.

“You’re looking great, Cass,” Jason says, because he might be an asshole to most people, but Clark thinks he’s just a giant teddy bear to the select few he admits he likes. Not that Clark would ever say that out loud because he’s pretty sure he’s just barely walking the line between those two groups, and he’d rather not be on anyone’s bad side.

“If you’d be so kind to help me with the potatoes, Mistress Cassandra,” Alfred says, smiling from the kitchen counter.

Cassandra nods shyly and complies, patting Jason’s head affectionately and shooting Clark a cheerful smile as she passes them.

“I’m guessing Steph and Harper are here too,” Jason says, sighing. Clark takes it as a _more people, just great_ kind of sigh.

“Steph is,” Clark says, tilting his head to show he’s using his superhearing. “Harper isn’t, though?”

“She’s coming later. Master Cullen is attending a party with his friends at school, so they’ll be arriving just before dinner,” Alfred says, while Cass nods in agreement beside him.

“Oh, I haven’t actually met Cullen yet,” Clark says, a bit of worry seeping into his voice. There’s always a possibility he won’t get along with one of Bruce’s, and he’d really rather that it doesn’t happen.

“Right. Who’s Cullen?” Jason says, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Harper’s brother,” Clark answers.

“Oh.” Jason grunts. “I didn’t know the newbie had a brother.”

“Yes, well, Master Damian and Master Dick haven’t met him either,” Alfred says. “Do try not to scare him off.”

Jason splutters, looking like he already has a rude response to that, except Cass laughs, all pleased and amused. Jason’s expression softens, his mouth turning up into a smile so willingly.

“I’ll try,” he says, and everyone in the room breathes a little easier.

 

 

**☐ alarm clock and definitely a date thing with Kon for Tim**

Tim’s sleeping when Clark comes to drag him to dinner.

“Hey, dinner’s in fifteen minutes,” Clark says, shaking Tim’s shoulder gently. “Tim, wake up.”

Tim groans, punching at the air near Clark. “No,” he says, scrunching his nose in distaste.

“Tim, come on,” Clark says. “Would you rather Damian or Steph come in here to wake you up?”

“Need more,” Tim says, and Clark assumes he just means sleep.

Clark sighs. “It’s seven in the evening, Tim. What time did you go to sleep?”

“Five,” Tim mutters, sounding like he’s already falling back asleep. “Noon. Not morning. Kon.”

“Kon?” Clark parrots, confused.

“Kon,” Tim confirms.

“Right,” Clark says, even though, _what?_

But Tim doesn’t elaborate, already asleep again.

“Ten minutes,” Clark says, even though Tim can’t hear him, “or else Alfred’s going to have my head.”

Clark floats to the door and tries his best not to make any noise as he closes it behind him. He shoots off a text to Kon after.

 **To Kon:** So what did you do to Tim?

 **From Kon:** um

 **To Kon:** Kon?

 **From Kon:** I have no idea what I did??

 **To Kon:** Something about sleeping at five in the afternoon?

 **From Kon:** oh!!

 **From Kon:** oh did he not sleep last night?? he didn’t tell me wtf

 **From Kon:** sorry clark!!!!! i was texting him all day, i didn’t know :(

 **To Kon:** It’s fine, Kon. :) I know how bats get.

 **From Kon:** still!! i’ll make sure he gets enough sleep later :) :)

 **To Kon:** Okay, I think I’m better off not knowing how you’re going to do that. Thanks, Kon!

 **From Kon:** oh my g od clark whY

 

**☐ earplugs for Steph**

Clark doesn’t even get one word out and Steph is already shushing him.

“Five minutes,” she says, not even looking up from her laptop. “I have to finish this thing.”

“Steph—”

“Clark,” Steph says calmly. “Five minutes.”

Clark sighs in defeat. “I gave Tim ten anyway.”

“He’s still asleep?” Steph asks, clucking her tongue. “That boy needs a better body clock.”

Clark raises his eyebrows, just a tiny bit incredulous. No superhero has a decent body clock.

“Oh, come on,” Steph says, rolling her eyes. “The only one worse than Tim is Bruce, and not by much, honestly.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Clark says. He takes a seat on the desk in the corner of Steph’s room. He knows she doesn’t like people near her when she’s working on her laptop. He’s seen her verbally tear Damian and Jason for arguing so loudly while she was working. Steph just isn’t someone to be crossed.

“I’m never wrong,” Steph says, her eyes narrowing slightly as she types.

“No, you never are,” Clark agrees, his smile affectionate.

Steph spares him a glance, considering him before her lips turn upwards into a small smile.

“Hey, Clark,” she says, waving a hand for Clark to come nearer. “Would you say that this is a good title for an article?”

Clark wonders, is this what she’s always doing on her laptop? Writing articles? Does she have a blog? Does she have them published in her school paper? Who else knows?

Even with all these questions, Clark looks over her article and doesn’t miss a beat when he answers.

He can tell he doesn’t disappoint Steph when she looks up at him, her eyes crinkling as she grins and a _thank you_ on her lips.

Clark can’t help but smile back.

 

 

**☐ a book for Damian (remember when shopping with Lois and Jimmy!)**

Clark steels himself before he enters Damian’s room. He can handle himself. It’s not like Damian actively dislikes him. Clark can do this.

Except Damian isn’t in his bedroom when Clark cheats and peeks into the room after too many unanswered knocks.

“Right,” Clark mutters.

He listens around the manor because Damian doesn’t seem to be in the dining room either.

Clark eventually finds him on the rooftop, an open book in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

“Damian, it’s time for dinner,” Clark says, careful to scuffle his shoes against the ground to further announce himself.

Damian looks up from his book and looks Clark straight in the eye. “I don’t want to go downstairs.”

Clark frowns. “Why not?”

“I’m not interested in playing house, alien,” Damian says, crossing his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Clark asks, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian hasn’t called him _alien_ in a long time. “And it’s just dinner, Damian.”

Damian huffs, annoyed. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” Clark says, pursing his lips. “Please let me see if I can help, Damian.”

Only Damian can make a shrug look so violent. “You wouldn’t—it’s a long story. We don’t have time.”

Clark resists the urge to fuss; he knows Damian won’t appreciate it. Well, at least that means he’s going downstairs for dinner.

“Hey,” Clark says, reluctance obvious in the way his voice shakes. “Can I at least hug you?”

And he expects to be glared at and brushed off, but instead, Damian rushes at him and lets him have five seconds of a surprising and perplexing hug.

“Come on, Kent,” Damian says gruffly when he finally jumps back. He’s looking at everywhere but Clark. “Alfred will get mad if we don’t hurry.”

“Right,” Clark says, though his mind is still reeling. “Of course.”

Neither Clark nor Damian make any mention of the hug during dinner.

 

**☐ tickets to Hamilton for Harper and Cullen**

For the rest of the night, Clark is Superman.

“Do you really just fly everywhere?” Cullen asks him.

“Well, not really. I have a bike,” Clark says, shrugging.

“He has a bike,” Cullen repeats excitedly, clutching at Harper’s arm.

“Just like the rest of us,” Harper says, shooting Clark a smile both grateful and a little embarrassed.

“I also take the train sometimes,” Clark adds. “I mean, unless I’m already in the suit, I still prefer doing what everyone else does.”

“Superman sings in the shower and loses his keys and eats pizza,” Harper says, wrapping an arm around her brother’s shoulders.

“Well, I find my keys a lot more easily, but yeah,” Clark says, chuckling.

“I can confirm that Clark sings in the shower,” Dick says.

“How do you even know that?” Steph asks, disbelieving.

“He takes showers at, like, six in the morning, and it’s loud enough to wake everyone up,” Tim answers. “It’s why he’s only allowed to take showers in the West Wing.”

“ _Six_ in the _morning_ ,” Harper repeats, horrified. Cass pats her on the back in an attempt to comfort her.

“It’s not that bad,” Dick says, of course he does. Clark can always count on Dick.

“It kind of is that bad,” Bruce says, smiling unapologetically at Clark. Well, it turns out Clark can’t always rely on his boyfriend.

“Hey!” Clark puts a hand over his chest in mock-hurt. “You’re all just mad because none of you are even capable of waking up at that hour.”

“You’re the only morning person in a family of night people, Clark. Expect some hate,” Barbara quips from the couch. She has her legs tangled with Dick’s as she fiddles with her tablet.

“Harper hates alarms,” Cullen says, his tone oddly wistful. “She threw my phone against the wall eight times before she finally got tired of fixing it and started sleeping on the couch instead.”

“But they’re so _noisy_ ,” Harper says, her eyes narrowed in disgust.

“Because they’re supposed to wake people up, Harper,” Cullen says patiently as he exchanges a long-suffering look with Clark.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to hear about southern motherfucking democratic-republicans every 5:30 AM,” Harper says, rolling her eyes, and of course. It’s all Jimmy plays nowadays besides Taylor Swift and Harper rants about it all the time, wishing Cullen could just watch the musical so he could get it out of his system.

Clark knows Bruce has enough money to bypass the whole _sold out_ thing, but he’s got connections of his own. Thus the envelope with Harper and Cullen’s names on it containing two tickets to Hamilton this February.

“It’s a great alarm song,” Cullen defends. “Honestly, I never imagined the infamous bats of Gotham would be so horrible. It’s like you’re all scared of the sun.”

Clark can see said bats collectively rolling their eyes.

Cullen’s right. They’re all horrible.

**☐ dad mug for Bruce :) :) (++ dinner with Ma and Kon and Kara!!)**

It’s midnight, half the children are dozing off, and Bruce and Clark have taken the opportunity to camp out in front of the fireplace, cuddling underneath a blanket.

“So,” Clark says, keeping his voice quiet, “tonight wasn’t a disaster.”

“I told you it’d be fine,” Bruce says, nosing affectionately at Clark’s hair. “But I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you all day.”

“Hey, we talked about this. You have to keep an eye out for your city, even if it is the holidays,” Clark says. “I have Kon patrolling Metropolis for me. I understand.”

“I know,” Bruce says, and Clark can feel him smiling against the back of his neck. “I’m still going to make it up to you.”

Clark narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Did you get me a ridiculously expensive gift? Again?”

“Of course not,” Bruce says. He doesn’t miss a beat and his voice doesn’t waver, but Bruce is one of the best liars Clark knows, so he doesn’t relax just yet.

“Okay,” Clark allows. “What did you have in mind then?”

“Well—”

“Oh my god, why am I not asleep yet?” Jason moans.

“I’m going to my room,” Damian says, all but running from the living room.

“I’m gonna go,” Jason says, eyeing Damian’s quick escape admiringly.

“Jason,” Bruce says, calling after him just as he’s by the doorway. “Alfred prepared your old room for you. Stay.”

Jason freezes, and Clark holds his breath.

“Better than crashing in Dick’s room,” Jason finally says, and Clark finally relaxes, leaning back against Bruce’s chest.

“Sleep well, Jason,” Clark says softly.

Jason shifts his weight from one foot to another and Clark can hear him swallow hard.

“Sure. You too,” Jason says, and he’s gone.

“They love you,” Bruce says once Jason’s footsteps are out of earshot. “It’s not an easy thing to accomplish, but here you are.”

“I’m glad,” Clark says, because he can’t deny that things with Bruce’s family are going better than he expected.

“So am I,” Bruce agrees, holding Clark tighter, as if he never wants to let go.

“Listen, I talked to Dick and he says that he and the others can handle Gotham next Saturday,” Clark says, laying a hand over Bruce’s, intertwining their fingers. “I was hoping you’d come and have dinner back in Smallville. It’ll just be me, Ma, Kon, Kara, and Krypto.”

“Of course I will,” Bruce says, no hesitation at all, as if he’s been ready for this moment for so long.

There’s a rush of warmth in Clark’s chest, and he’s suddenly reminded of why he loves Bruce so much.

“Thank you,” Clark murmurs, turning his head to press his lips against Bruce’s in a short, chaste kiss. “I love you.”

Bruce smiles.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!


End file.
